Fire Flies
by Ione-Sama
Summary: It's been two years since the werewolf disappeared. Henry Lazar still nurses an aching heart after Valarie's rejection but what happens when a dark-eyed beauty comes to Daggerhorne? Does she have what it takes to heal Henry's shattered heart? Will he let her in?
1. Visions

It had been two years since the werewolf left Daggerhorne. Valarie had removed herself from the village of her childhood to her grandmother's cabin. Eversince the old woman's death at the hands of her father, Valarie had felt less at home in her own village; the cabin nesteled in the midst of the forest had always seemed more of a home to her than any other place.

Since Peter's transformation into a werewolf, he'd left Daggerhorne in hopes of learning to control the demon within him, enabling him to protect Valarie. Valarie had promised herself and Peter that she would wait for him... she kept her promise and even the few who learned of Valarie's whereabouts in the forest, by the time they'd come to find her, she had long since disappeared. Some speculated that it was yet another werewolf that had come to exact more revenge. In the end, no one ever knew what happened ... including Henry Lazar. Even when he'd found his courage, choosing a life of honor, he still felt an emptiness inside. Even though he'd never really known Valarie, there was a part of him that he'd dared to open up to her; he'd grown to care for her very deeply and when he'd learned her heart already belonged to Peter, it wounded him so deeply that he'd sworn he'd never again let another into his heart. He burried himself deep within his work. He rode long nights with his men, late nightly patrols were constantly kept in an effort to protect Daggerhorne and its inhabitants from darkness.

One early morning, Henry was returning from a long journey; there'd been a long hunt in search of a highly evil dark witch from a neighborning province. She'd been stiring up alot of trouble, passing under the guise of a medicine woman, ministering to the sick when in actuality she was practicing the black arts and as a result, a young child had died. It had been many months and no one had been able to find her or even a trace of her. But after many days of searching and inquiries made on the part of Henry, they'd managed to track her whereabouts to a small outlying village in the next province. It hadn't been easy; the woman was no more than eighteen and once subdued, she'd appeared so innocent, vulnerable and frightened but the law was the law. It had taken a tole on Henry's emotional and mental state as well as his men. Now that they were home once again, some of the heavy burden he'd been carrying for many months, rolled from his shoulders and he breathed a sigh of relief. Dismounting from his horse, he handed the reigns off to one of the stablemen as villagers came forward to greet their returned loved ones. A small sadness crept into his heart; for aside from his grandmother, he had no one to come home to; there was no warm fire in the harth of a cozy hut burning for him; no sweet young wife waiting to bid him welcome home or to share his bed with. Nothing but his blacksmith shop welcomed him home and despite himself, he felt a deep aching in his chest and a longing for someone to love.

"Henry! My darling!" His grandmother cried from the edge of the gathering crowd. he stepped forward, embracing her fail form as she cried tears of joy.

"My dearest boy! Thank God you are safe; home at last! How long will you stay?"

"For awhile, Grandmother; the darkness is past us for now...now we may enjoy a short time of peace..."

"At long last..." she clutched her handkercheif as she clung to the strong arm of her grandson. That night would be a night of feast and celebration in honor of the men's return.

# # # #

That night was indeed a night of festivities, gayity and celebration. The feasting and dance lasted well into the night and everyone spent the time in fellowship, thanksgiving and celebration. Henry remained mostly quiet. He stayed near his grandmother, knowing the separation had been particularly trying for her but he also conversed with his men and the few whom had grown closer to him than brothers. As the night wore on, Henry noticed faces in the gathering throng of which he did not recognize. At length, he inquired of Aaron, his commander and best friend. "Aaron. These new faces I see; who are they?"

"From what I understand they are all that's left of a smaller village that's farther north of us. It seems their village was attacked by a band of outlaws from the south. They left nothing; killed all the men...took the women and children and burned the homes and livestock. These few however survived. From what I understand there was a young maiden who took it upon herself to hide them when the fighting began. They say she even held off a small band of men, single-handedly. She risked her own life."

"Who is this maiden of whom you speak?"

"I myself have not laid eyes on her as of yet. She is among us tonight no doubt. Perhaps seated with Rose, Roxanne and the others." No sooner had Aaron spoke these words then in a flash of sparks and flame, Henry's eyes caught sight of dark brown eyes behind a half silver mask. She stood across the circle from him, walking along the outer edges of the blazing bonfire. Between bursts of dancing flame, Henry caught glimpses of her; her dark eyes so pensive and haunting...her hair though mostly concealed beneath the hood of her cloak could be glimpsed from the few strands of ebony black curl that escaped. She was tall, slender and graceful in appearence but something about her begged fire beneath the illusion of innocence. But this fire seemed well tamed as if meticulously hidden from all eyes save to whom it chose to reveal itself. Against his nature which was always modest chivalry and gallantry, Henry couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she moved seemingly unnoticed through the crowd. He knew better than gaze so freely and openly upon a young woman especially if she was not of his acquaintence but something about her intriuged him and as she moved out of the light and into the shadows, Henry's eyes followed her. And before he knew it, his feet followed after as she suddenly disappeared from sight.

Going against his better judgment, Henry left the festivities and followed after her. He glanced down the snow-covered path that led between the huts but caught nothing more than the fleeting shadows of the snowflakes as they began to fall from the overcast sky. He sighed heavily and turned back, suddenly losing all desire for festive interaction and decided to retire early. Once settled in for the night, Henry rolled over on his back, allowing his aching muscles to slowly relax into the down feathers and thick fur blankets of his bed. His mind however was alert and sharp as he pondered the night's events ... the young woman's dark pensive eyes wouldn't leave him nor the timid curve of her mouth as she'd smiled at him from across the way. Something about her seeped into his mind so deeply that in the following days and weeks, the escence of her flowed in his veins...he couldn't stop thinking of her at every turn; something reminded him of her. If it wasnt the golden embers of his anvil as he hammered out the smooth metal of a javelin, reminding him of the flames that reflected a golden amber in her deep irisis, then it was the ebony black feathers of a raven's wing, reminding him of her long black wavy tresses.

It wasn't long before these visions of her made their way into his dreams. Henry awoke many nights, his breathing heavy as heat radiated his body. His frustration grew as he came to realize this mysterious woman was now affecting his life and not only distracting him but controlling his emotions and depriving him of sleep. It wasn't long before this alement was driving him close to insanity. He had to remedy it but he didn't know how; delving deeper into his work or spending long hours in his shop were affording him no relief. Soon, he saw no other choice then to speak of his troubles to someone he trusted. Someone he felt would know more than anyone else, how to aid him. That evening, he made a visit to Valarie's mother. After his mother had died when he was very young, this woman had been the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known.

"Henry! It's so good to see you, Come in!" She greeted him so warmly, the young man smiled down at her as she ushered him into her home which she now shared with a young mother who had just rescently lost her husband and was expecting a child. "Thank you, I hope I'm not inconveniencing you?"

"Nonsense! Your visits are never an inconvenience, Henry, they are always welcomed, you know that."

"I know this may seem strange but I had to come because... I have something to ask you; I need your advice on something that's...well I honestly don't know how to even begin; I'm so confused myself I hardly know where to start." The young man seated himself in the chair by the fire and instantly, Mira could sense his anxiety and frustration.

"What is it, Henry?"

"Well, the people that have come to us... from the north. Do you know anything of them?"

"No...nothing in particular; it's a small group of them...mostly women and a few children...all the men were killed as I understand...so horrible." She shivered slightly as she said this.

"Yes, Aaron was telling me last night...And he also mentioned something about...a young woman that saved the rest...before the fighting began?"  
Mira turned a knowing smile to Henry and the younger man couldn't hide the change in his countenance. However, it was a mixture of desparation and frustration as he stood to his feet and began to pace the room. "I've never been able to feel anything for anyone since...Valarie left...or perhaps I should say I've never allowed myself to. But two and a half weeks ago, on the night of the festival I...I saw _her." _For the first time, his eyes met Mira's and hers was a look of understanding and sympathy for the man who though only twenty-two, had been made to carry burdens that were only meant for men nearly twice his age; since the death of his father, Henry had been forced to come full circle into manhood, much sooner than most of the young men his age...and he'd done it alone. There was no one by his side to support him, encourage him...to give him love and comfort. Mira's heart had ached for the boy since the day her daughter had rejected his proposal in favor of Peter and now that he seemed to have discovered something of this desire, her hopes came alive for him once more.

"Henry...do you love her?"

Henry gasped, falling helplessly into the chair. "How can I even know! I know nothing about her; it's ridiculous because I've spend countless nights since that night...sleepless nights thinking of her and dreaming of her...No matter what I do I...I can't get her out of my head, she haunts me everywhere I go, Mira I don't know what to do. I've never lost control over myself like this; my mind, my thoughts and my actions...my emotions and inclinations have always been my own. and I do not like having them meddled with by the visions of a young girl I barely know!"

She smiled, reaching out her hand and touching his face as a mother would. "You have...so much of your father in you; he was just like you when he was your age...always so serious, driven, honorable and of sound judgment..."

"You loved my father...didn't you."

Mira's breath caught in her throat but Henry's eyes softened as he stood.

"Don't worry, Mira...it's only because my father hid his thoughts and feelings well from everyone else but me; wenever his eyes strayed to you, I knew what he felt...but I kept it to myself, no one else ever knew."

She smiled, relieved. "Yes...I did love your father...and like you, he was a man of sense and duty. He never let anything or anyone distract him from his responsibility to what he believe and felt was right...but when we met it was like...all things ceased to exist...for both of us. Our two worlds which were so different, collided and even though it never came to be...I know that neither of us regretted a single moment of it. Even your father. Though he was always loyal to his conscience and his duty of honor, I know that he would've given it all up in a moment if I would've let him. That is why...him and I were never together; I refused to allow him to sacrifice his life for me; it wouldn't have been fair to him and beyond that I couldn't have born looking at myself in the mirror every day, knowing that I had been the cause of his giving up a life of comfort and prosperity for one of constant struggle."

"Mira...my father loved you. Even after he married my mother and even though he was greieved at her death, it never left his eyes and he wouldn't have seen it as any sacrifice; he would've given all for you and it would've been the greatest gain of his life... I know that."

The older woman's eyes glimmered with tears at Henry's ardent words. "Thank you, Henry...It means a great deal to me. But now, you are not here to listen to me speak of my past...this is about you and your future."

"Mira, I don't even know if there is any point in it other than me just needing to get it off my chest and talk it out...I know nothing of this young woman and who am I to think that I can be of any help to her?"

"Henry, she's young...very young I'm sure...possibly no older than seventeen but she has just lost her home; she's alone and she's frightened. She's strong, brave yes to stand against a band of men to protect the few she saved along with herself...that does take courage and a strong heart but don't confuse strength with the ability to stand alone...nothing is so strong as gentleness...and nothing so gentle as real strength."

Henry smiled at these words for they had been Mira's counsel to him for as long as he could remember. Just then, the town bell tolled midnight. Henry stood to his feet. "I'm sorry for keeping you so late, Mira...but thank you for listening and for your advice...I've always respected it and headed it...as I will now."

"Don't be too harsh on yourself, Henry; give yourself some time to sort out the thoughts of your heart...you take such good care of us, you protect us tirelessly and you aid those in the fight against darkness but don't forget that you are just as important...take time for yourself and as for this young woman...don't brush away the visions of her; they may be well in bringing you to your destiny...get to know her." She finished her motherly speech with a warm smile and a gentle sqeeze to his arm.

"Thank you, I will and goodnight."


	2. Yasmina

That night, Henry slept but his visions were even more persistent. The next morning when he awoke, his frustrations seemed heightened. For a moment, he wondered if this young woman was some kind of sorceress who had cast a haunting spell upon him. But he dismissed the foolish thought at once. Rising from bed, he dressed quickly and made for the shop. His blacksmith duties had taken second priorities since he'd become captain of the royal guard, but there was still a part of him that enjoyed being elbow deep in black coal, dirt and sweat, working and fashioning with his tools; there was something about the heated work that gave him a sense of calm and peace within himself.

Once there, he discarded his outer robes, replaced them with his blacksmiths apron and set to work. Heating the fire pit till it whas white hot, he set about pounding a long piece of iron into a rod that when placed upon the ground, stood a foot past his own height. Once finished he then began heating and pounding out the rough edges and ripples in the metal until all angles of the rod were smooth. Next, he took a smaller piece of steel, roughly the size of a javelin and began to pound it out and shape it so it sloped into the shape of an arrow at the top. When completed, he would weld the spear head to the top of the rod and insert the rod in a carved wooden shaft to reinforce the rod's strength. His thought was to re-fashion a spear and to test it and if it proved stronger than the ones which his men regularly weilded, he would fashion more after the same likeness. After many hours, he'd become so invested into his work that he did not notice a pair of dark eyes watching him.

She stood outside the shop, just across the way so as not to be readily noticed. Her dark eyes were trained on the tall handsome stranger whom she had spotted weeks before at the festival. His strong hands worked deftly and easily at his present task and she was fascinated at how quick yet efficient and skilled his hands were. Just then, a clanging of metal with iron followed by a low curse, broke the crisp morning air. She glanced anxiously to see Henry holding his hand against his waist, his face twisted and grimacing. The sight of red trickling down the side of his hand and onto his wrist, alarmed her. within moments, she was across the way gaining entrance.

"Are you hurt?"

A soft voice sounded from close behind him and Henry, startled stumbled to his feet in haste. When he turned, the sight that met him left him frozen in shock. There she stood; raven black hair gathered beneath the hood of a deep green cloak with pensive brown eyes beneath long black eye lashes, a gaze of concern turned towards him. Her features were petite but her figure was tall, slender and curvey. The top of her head reached perhaps to his shoulder and her skin... it wasn't milkey white as was so often seen of the young maidens of Daggerhorne...her's was a golden honey tone that caught the dancing shadows of the flames from the fire pit. He had never beheld such an exotic creature of such dark mysterious beauty...the novelty of it was both unsettling and intriguing.

"Forgive me but, I was passing by and I saw your...accident. Your hand is it bleeding?" Her dove-like voice questioned.

"Uh...um yes it's...no! No it's completely fine." Henry stuttered over his words; his usual poise and eleoquence was lost in the presence of this creature whose eyes and voice captivated him keenly.

"Look...regardless of what the rest of the villagers here at Daggerhorne may have told you, I'm not some kind of sorceress and I will most certainly not hurt you."

"I never said that you were, I-"

"Your eyes say enough, Lazar."

Henry was stunned. "How...how do you know my name?"

She laughed then; the sound brought a warmth that spread to Henry's entire being. "You don't know how famous and loved you are even among your own people?"

He smiled somewhat sheepishly then. "I suppose...I never really took time to think about it. I follow my duty to protect my people...I don't expect anything in return."

"Well. As much as I wish to refute you on that point, right now all I want is to take a look at your hand and stop the bleeding...so... may I?"

He hesitated a moment; unsure of whether to trust the young girl with the task of tending to him...he knew nothing of her and perhaps even this small act of kindness was a door opened too soon. But then, his mind resounded with Mira's words: "..._As for this young woman, don't dismiss the visions of her for they may be well in bringing you to your destiny...get to know her..." _He knew then what his decision would be. "Thank you...that is very kind of you."

She smiled and nodded, advancing towards him. The scent of Cinnamon and Twilight wood mixed with Mhyrr, assulted his nose as she stood just before him. Taking his injured hand in her delicate one, she turned it over, inspecting the deep cut. "Hmm, it's a deep cut...the biggest concern right now is infection. Even though it's the dead of winter, infection is just as prevelant as in the summer months..." she trailed off as she removed a small pouch from beneath her cloak. Opening it she procured a small mixture of herbs and spices which she dispensed into a nearby cup. Leaving Henry for a moment, she went to the well and drew some water. Returning, she poured the water into the cup and began mixing the contents with her fingers. Henry watched her, acutely aware of every movement and gesture she made. A period of silence fell between the two as she tested the paste, assenting that it was sufficient. Setting it aside, she took the little water left in the laddle and thoroughly bathed Henry's cut. He grimaced once or twice which was followed by a sincere "sorry" from her. Then, before he knew it, she bent over and taking up the hem of her dress, tore off a long piece about four inches in width.

"Miss, please!" Henry protested.

"Oh don't mind it, this dress is as old as my grandmother and besides I have a few others that are better than this one." Taking the strip of cloth, she spread the paste as evenly as possible over its surface and then commenced carefully binding his hand. Her hands were efficient but so gentle and caring in their ministrations that Henry secretly wished he had cuts and bruises that covered both hands and arms...this angel of mercy paid him with such tenderness and kindness, he did not wish to be free from her capable caring hands. But all too soon, she had finished and secured the bandage with instructions as to keeping the wound clean and dressing changed frequently. His time was running out and Henry had to find some way to keep her longer or to at least ensure her return at some point in the very near future. He fumbled in his mind when suddenly it occured to him.

"Before you leave, I must thank you for your kindness but I can't properly thank you without a name."

She looked at him quizzically then it dawned on her and she blushed a bit. "Oh forgive me...Yasmina. Or if you would prefer, the translation for your language I believe would be Jasmine."

Her name, just as mysterious and lovely as she was, burned in his memory that very moment. "Yasmina... for your services and kindness, I thank you." And he bowed like a perfect gentleman which only caused Yasmina to smile even brighter. "Well might I have the pleasure of your name...your given name that is?" She eyed him with a modest and innocent playfulness that made his eyes sparkle and for the first time in two years he genuinely grinned. "Of course. Henry. Henry Lazar...but please, call me Henry."

She nodded with a warm smile that reached his heart, the warmth spreading through him. "Well Henry...I best be returning home, it is late but I will be by again later...tomorrow perhaps to check on your wound? I mean I think it's best that you keep it dressed with the ointment and nothing against you but I don't trust anyone else to prepare the ointment besides myself because... it has to be a certain kind of amount of mixture to water and the consistency..."

"By all means, I wouldn't want to further risk myself contracting infection; I will happily relinquish myself to the ministrations of your capable hands. My home, it isn't hard to find...its the third one in the third row on the south side of the square."

She nodded. "So tomorrow then?"

He smiled broadly. "Yes, tomorrow then."


End file.
